


Say My Name

by bionically



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Partners, Community: hp_creatures, Creature Fic, F/M, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Hogwarts, creature fest, creature: kneazle, kneazle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-07-20 21:55:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16146329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bionically/pseuds/bionically
Summary: Harry's been acting a bit odd lately and unloads a kneazle on Hermione just before he gets himself obliviated. What's going on, and more importantly, why has his partner gone missing?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt:** 80  
>  **Creature:** Kneazle  
>  **Disclaimer:** This creation is based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made, no copyright or trademark infringement, or offense is intended. All characters depicted in sexual situations are above the age of consent.  
>  **Notes:** Thank you to my betas [takeavacation](https://archiveofourown.org/users/takeavacation), _mojojojoiamhe_ , and all the mods who hosted this fest.

 "Oh my god, Harry, is that a new pet?" Hermione asked upon seeing the furry animal behind her friend.

It was a big, sleek kneazle with fur so white it was almost pearl-like in its sheen. It had been making its way across the room when it spotted her and stopped in the midst of a step, one paw in midair. Now it sat on its haunches, with its head tilted to one side as it surveyed her.

"Er, no," Harry said, looking somewhat ill at ease. It could have been her imagination, but it seemed as though he was trying to close the door on her.

"Harry!" she protested with a slight laugh, holding the door open with one hand. "Are you all right?"

"I'm going to have to cancel, Hermione. It's just not a good time," he said, pushing his glasses up his nose. He looked frazzled.

"What's going on, Harry?" Hermione asked, narrowing her eyes at him. "You're looking more, er, mussed than normal," she added, eyes flicking up to his hair, which roughly resembled the Whomping Willow after it had shaken itself in all directions.

"Get rid of it, Harry, or else!" yelled another voice inside the house, which resolved itself to belong to Ginny. A baby’s cry echoed her and was followed up with a groan from Harry.

"Oh, hello, Hermione, we're having a bit of a marital crisis here. Have you come to take the kneazle off our hands?" Ginny said, red head popping up from behind Harry. Her hair also looked messier than her usual coiffed state.

"What's going on?" Hermione asked, looking at Harry and then what she could see of Ginny.

Ginny stood on tiptoe to complain to Hermione, only to frown upon seeing that she was still standing outside. "Come in, for heaven's sake. What are you doing still standing there? Harry, could you get some tea?"

Harry’s eyes darted this and that way before he reluctantly pulled the door open all the way. He stopped in front of the animal, stooped as though to pick it up. The kneazle reared back and hissed. Harry grumbled something and marched from the room.

"What's going on, Ginny?" Hermione asked, moving towards the animal and squatting down with her hand outstretched so that the kneazle could come forward to make her acquaintance. It circled her once before flicking its tail under her chin. Hermione giggled and stroked the animal head to tail. It purred in satisfaction under her attentions.

Ginny heaved a sigh, bouncing James on her hip and cuffing his chubby arms from trying to reach down for the animal. "James is allergic to animals and has a really bad rash. And what does Harry do--he brings a kneazle home! Now James spends all day trying to play tag with it," Ginny said, throwing up her hands. "I'm up to here with Harry, honestly. James has been fussing all week, and now this."

"But she's so pretty," Hermione said, sitting down and letting the kneazle climb into her lap. "It's a she, right? Let me see."

As Hermione moved to lift the animal into the air to check its sex, it jumped out of her arms and hissed over its shoulder at her.

"Sorry," Hermione said to the animal. "He?"

The kneazle purred and stalked back to allow Hermione to scratch its ears again.

"It's rare for a kneazle to be pure white, you know," she said absently to Ginny. "Usually, they have patches or they're spotted. It must be very valuable. Where did Harry pick him up?"

"That's the thing. Ever since this past quarter when Harry's been paired up with Malfoy, the two of them have gotten up to hijinks like you would not believe. It's enough to drive one up the wall. I didn't even ask this time, since this is far less inconvenient than the other things he's gotten up to recently."

"Oh, is their little bromance still going on?"

"Like you wouldn't believe," Ginny said, rolling her eyes. "Last month, they were hauled up in front of their supervisor on three separate occasions."

"I think I remember that. They were stuck in a portal cabinet and were sent to Siberia, right?"

"Yes. That was the day I had to get all my applications out, and I really didn't appreciate having to stand in line for an international portkey to Siberia in the middle of the night. Anyway, _that_ was before they were stuck in the Vanishing Mirror for a week, and before they found the Cursed Trident and flooded Hogwarts. I've seriously considered asking to have them separated. If it were anyone else, I would suspect Harry was cheating on me, he's gone for ‘work’ so often since being paired up with him."

Hermione laughed. "I had no idea. Well, _Harry's_ married to you. It doesn't mean that Malfoy isn't keen on him, however—ow!" She gazed reproachfully at the kneazle who had just nipped her finger.

"See? It's probably diseased! Why would Harry bring it home to an allergic infant? Are you alright, Hermione? Do you need to go to St. Mungo’s?"

"No, it didn't break the skin," Hermione said, turning her hand this way and that.

"Here's the tea," Harry said, bringing out a tray.

The two women watched as Harry poured out four cups, added a little milk into the fourth cup and set it on the ground. The kneazle ambled over and sniffed at the tea before turning away. Harry heaved a sigh and spooned two teaspoons of sugar into the cup. The kneazle purred in acknowledgement and deigned to lap at the tea.

"Er, Harry?" Hermione said as Ginny said, "See what I mean?"

"I don't think that kneazles should be eating so much sugar," Hermione said, raising her eyebrows. "Generally, I feed Crookshanks meat and seafood. He really likes seafood."

"Well, this kneazle prefers lots of sweets," Harry grumbled.

"I'm sure you're wrong about that," Hermione lectured. "What have you been giving him?"

Harry threw his hands up in the air and started grumbling at a rapid tempo. "What _haven't_ I been giving him? If it isn't one thing, it's another. Now I have to finish the paperwork on my own, because I don't know how long this curse will take to break. And in addition, I have to put in a leave of absence for Malfoy and—"

The kneazle suddenly swiped Harry across the shins and slashed open his trousers at the legs. Harry pursed his lips and glared at the kneazle with barely suppressed frustration.

"I _know_ , dammit. I'll stop! Fine! Fine!" Harry was saying to the kneazle.

"He's lost it," Ginny said, eyes wide. "It's all those _crucios_. Luna did warn me there would be additional wrackspurts from them, but I didn't listen."

"It's perfectly normal to talk to your pet," Hermione said calmly, fixing Harry's pants with a flick of her wand. "Harry, calm down. You're making him more upset."

The kneazle had sat back on its haunches and was yowling back at Harry for as if he was offended by Harry's ranting.

"What's his name?" Hermione asked, reaching for the kneazle again. At first it resisted in favor of walking over Harry's feet, but it subsided under her scratching of its ears.

"Dra-er… Ferret," Harry corrected with a decisive nod. He was watching her pet the animal with a strange expression on his face.

"You named him Ferret?" Hermione asked incredulously as Ginny rolled her eyes.

"See?" Ginny said. "Further proof of their illicit love affair. He's named the kneazle after Malfoy."

"Why would you do a thing like that? If you don't like him, return him. I'm sure a pretty animal like him could find a new owner quickly," Hermione said, and was rewarded by the kneazle butting her under the chin for her compliment.

"Ugh," muttered Ginny with distaste.

Harry was similarly glaring at the animal. "Unfortunately not. No returns of any kind."

Hermione laughed. "Pinch punch, first of the month!"

Harry’s scowl relaxed into a smile. "A slap and a kick for being so quick," he replied.

Ginny looked from one to the other of them in bewilderment, a movement the kneazle shared.

"It's a Muggle nursery rhyme," Hermione explained to Ginny. "Its origins are surprisingly appropriate, hailing from mediaeval times, when a pinch of salt and an accompanying punch could ward off witches."

"Yes, Dudley liked to play that with me," Harry said sourly. "And trust me, he could pack a punch."

"That's the perfect name for him," Hermione said, clapping her hands together. "Pinchpunch."

The kneazle yowled and drew long scratches in the floor. Harry cleared them away and smiled ferally at the kneazle. "Do you hear that, Pinchpunch? If you're not good, I'll do exactly that to you. A pinch and a punch."

"Harry!" Hermione protested. "You do realize I'm in the department for the _p_ _rotection_ of magical beasts and species? I don't want to have to take this animal away from you for animal cruelty."

At that, both Ginny and Harry turned their faces towards Hermione, who took a step back in response.

"Could you, Hermione?" Ginny pleaded. "Please? Pretty please with sugar and knobs on?" She made little James clasp his hands together as though he, too, were in supplication.

The kneazle had slowly began to back from the room.

"Actually," Harry said slowly, taking off his glasses and blowing on the lens. "That's not a bad idea."

"While I would love to—Pinchpunch is a gorgeous kneazle and clearly house-trained and very well-bred—I'm not sure Crookshanks would like him. They can be very territorial, you know."

Ginny began to beg in earnest. "Oh, Hermione, I really don't like animals that much—I have _six brothers_ , you know, and the things they kept would have given you nightmares. And James! Poor James, his rash is really serious, poor child. Here, just look at all his scratches, he’s been itching so much. You can see for yourself the state he's in. It's child abuse, it really is, to subject such a young child to a nasty kneazle when he has allergies."

"That would be great, Hermione," Harry said. "Really. Truly. It would be the answer to all my problems. I have to go into the office anyway, because there's something incredibly pressing I need to fix _at_ _once_ , and well," Harry sighed stagily, "I just don't think I can trust Ginny not to abuse the poor animal. She can be quite violent, you know."

Ginny responded to this with a glare and a punch aimed at Harry, which he avoided by nipping sideways. "You see?" he said.

Hermione stared at Harry. "Are you trying to manipulate me?"

"A little," he admitted. "But come on! Ginny and I have no idea how to care for a kneazle—you do. If it were up to me, I'd just kick him out of the house." Harry raised a foot in illustration.

"That's it!" Hermione shouted, running forward and scooped the kneazle off the ground, while it protested and tried to leap free. "I'm taking Pinchpunch with me at once. Don't think I won't remember this, Harry. I never took you for an animal abuser."

"You'll see," he said gloomily. "He's not an animal. He's the _worst_."

 

* * *

 

 

He really was the most gorgeous animal, thought Hermione, stroking the kneazle head to tail.

Hermione had apparated them back to her home, after which Pinchpunch had promptly vomited on her rug. She cleaned up the mess with her wand while the kneazle sulked in a corner. Then Hermione had gotten to work trying to win Pinchpunch over before Crookshanks returned from his daily stalking.

"Pinchpunch," she sang, dangling a brush by the handle. "Here, boy. You'll enjoy this."

And enjoyed the grooming he did, with such loud purrs that Hermione was almost deafened. Not only that, he was soon belly-up on Hermione's lap in a position as unlike a kneazle could ever be. She had read that kneazles seldom showed their underside to people they didn't trust, but clearly he trusted her.

"Oh, you're a beautiful boy, aren't you?" she cooed at him, nuzzling him with her head. She could have been wrong, but the sound he was making were so human, as though he were groaning.

They were interrupted by a loud hissing. Hermione looked up to see Crookshanks, tail lashing back and forth. He was clearly not pleased by the new turn of events.

Hermione pushed Pinchpunch off her lap, which he did not take calmly. Still, he had no choice when Hermione stood up and dumped him onto the floor.

The two animals eyed each other. Crookshanks circled the newcomer with a few hisses. Hermione went to the kitchen and came back with his favorite snack—Devon crab tidbits. Apparently Harry hadn't been lying when he hinted at Pinchpunch's particular tastes—the white kneazle sauntered over, gave it a sniff or two of disdain, and then sidled off.

Crookshanks, who had swatted a paw at his rival, was slightly pacified when Pinchpunch didn't leap for his food. Still, he kept a wary eye on the kneazle as he wound his body between Hermione's legs.

It was fascinating to see the two interact, Hermione thought when her Floo whooshed and Ron stepped through.

"Hey," he said. "Should we go?" Ron's eyes fell on the two animals and his lips curled in an ill manner. "You got another cat?"

"This one's a full-blooded kneazle," Hermione explained. "He's very rare too. Look at that beautiful fur."

"It looks like something the Malfoys would own," Ron said.

Hermione looked at Pinchpunch with surprise. "You're right. They _are_ incredibly obsessed with albino animals."

"Harry and Ginny can't go," Ron said. "They're having some issues."

"I know. I was just there. Where do you think I got the kneazle?"

"It belongs to Harry?" Ron asked, his eyes bugging. "Since when? How?"

Hermione paused. "You know, in all the excitement, I forgot to ask him where it came from. Hey, what's happening with him at work? He seemed incredibly stressed."

"Malfoy volunteered them for all sorts of animal trafficking cases. I guess Harry isn't a fan."

"That makes sense," Hermione said, gazing at Pinchpunch who was sitting with his back to Ron.

"I hope it's spayed," Ron went on. "Otherwise you'll come back to a flat filled with little kneazles."

"It's male," Hermione said. "But that's a good point. I need to put up signs. If nobody claims him in the next two weeks or so, I'll have to see about getting him neutered. I don't think Harry wants to keep him."

Pinchpunch hadn't stopped to listen to more; he had raced from the room.

 

* * *

 

 

"No, definitely do _not_ get him neutered!" Harry yelled over the Floo. "Do I need to come over there?"

"No, it's just…he keeps yowling," Hermione said through the fire. "I've never heard an animal make such strange noises. I'm going to sleep soon, and I don't know what to do with him."

"Give him some Draught of Peace," Harry said. "Knock him out over the head. But _don't_ neuter him! You got it, Hermione?"

"I think all my neighbors got it," she said. "And I don't think your suggestions are any more humane, Harry."

"Give him some chocolate or something. He's probably hungry."

"That's the thing; he won't eat any of Crookshanks’ cat food, not even the really high-end stuff."

Harry snorted. Hermione couldn't tell if he was amused or annoyed. "Let him starve for a few meals. It won't hurt him."

"But—"

"You're doing great, Hermione. Love you!" Harry said before getting off the Floo.

Hermione got off her knees to stare up at the kneazle, who had perched on top of her table to stare back at her. She had often thought Crookshanks was almost like a human in the way he looked at people, but he had nothing on Pinchpunch. Now that Ron had mentioned it, he looked exactly like something Draco Malfoy would own. He even had pale colored eyes to go with that coat of white-gold.

"You even look like him," Hermione said to the kneazle. "You could practically be his familiar."

After a moment of arguing with herself, Hermione went to her kitchen and got out her seldom used tea set. Unlike her friends, she usually drank coffee. She did what Harry had done and steeped some teabags to make some tea for the kneazle. Pinchpunch sat straight backed on one of her kitchen chairs and watched her. At some point she thought he even hissed at her using teabags instead of actual tea leaves.

Finally, she poured the tea into a cup along with a little milk and two sugars. As an afterthought, Hermione put two chocolates on a saucer for him on the table. She watched as Pinchpunch drank the tea and then daintily nibbled at the chocolate.

"Incredible," Hermione said, shaking her head. " _Now_ may I get some sleep, please? I need to go to work tomorrow."

Crookshanks looked disapprovingly at the two of them and yowled his displeasure. He didn't approve of any of this, yet the new kneazle was bigger and didn't seem as though it wanted to steal any of Crookshanks’ tasty cat snacks or any the places he liked to be; like the cardboard box next to the television or on top of the television itself. He was pretty sure that he could outlast that strange kneazle that definitely didn't smell like any kneazle Crookshanks had ever known.

Hermione hoped the kneazle’s adjustment period wasn’t going to be too difficult for her, since it seemed as though he were definitely sulking. She had made a perfectly nice bed for him out of a blanket and a long pillow tucked end to end so that it formed a semi-circle. But he had sniffed around the bedding before glaring at her and leaping on top of her bed. It was possible that he had even been trying to kick her from her own bed, but she wasn't having any of that.

"That's enough," she said. "You didn't like the kitchen. You didn't like the bathroom, or the living area. I'm sorry this place isn't up to your standards, but it's either here or my closet."

After yowling for a minute that Hermione was afraid would turn into twenty, Pinchpunch finally deigned to lie down.

Crookshanks had never been this much trouble.

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione was halfway through her work for the morning when a _patronus_ came from Ron: "Urgent. Harry injured. Meet at St. Mungo’s."

She actually heaved a long-suffering sigh, because it had been the latest in the string of escapades leading him and Malfoy straight to hospital beds.

"What's happened?" she asked Ron when she flooed to the hospital and found him standing outside a closed hospital room.

"Obliviation hex," Ron said darkly. "It looks bad."

"They can reverse it, right?" Hermione asked, her brows drawing together.

"Malfoy's nowhere to be found," Ron added. "It's looking pretty grim."

Ginny came walking down the hall next to two healers. When she saw them, her face crumpled for a moment before she firmed her lips. The healers excused themselves and Ginny walked towards them. "It could be worse, I suppose," she said, trying to smile. "He could have been made to forget I existed."

"How far back did they obliviate?" Hermione asked.

"A week," Ginny said and cleared her throat. "Not the worst in the grand scheme of things, but it's constant, these harrying cases of his."

"They need to reverse it, in any case. Malfoy could still be out in the field," Ron said, rubbing his chin. "I need to get back. We're probably going to have to work round the clock on this."

"Maybe they'll separate them after this?" Hermione said weakly.

"If they can find Malfoy," Ginny sniffed, and Hermione pulled the other girl into a comforting embrace. "They need Harry’s memories to find Malfoy, and they need Malfoy to figure out how to reverse the spell. It's horrible."

Hermione spent the rest of the afternoon on personal leave, figuring out what she could do for Ginny. She had volunteered to watch James while Ginny sat with Harry, but Ginny had opted to let her kneazle-less mother care for her allergic infant.

"Thanks anyway," Ginny said with a forced smile. "Keep an eye on that kneazle though, since that was the last thing they were working on before this latest disaster."

Both her pets seemed to sense her worry when she returned home that night. Crookshanks purred and jumped on her lap as he was prone to do when she was upset. Pinchpunch paced about the room watching them with his shoulders raised for all as though he were a jungle cat stalking prey or staking out territory.

"Harry's gotten himself in trouble again," Hermione said absently to Crookshanks as she brushed him. She didn't see the white kneazle freeze in his pacing and stand stock still.

In the next moment, however, she had been pushed backwards into the sofa cushions and Crookshanks was protesting with snarls. The snarls went unnoticed as Pinchpunch leaped over the smaller cat’s body, placing front paws on Hermione's chest; whiskered face so close that she was once more able to see his surprisingly human eyes. Kneazle eyes were usually slitted, weren't they? Pinchpunch had incredibly human, round, dark pupils. She was also quite sure she had never before seen a cat with grey eyes, like the color of the sky before a lightning storm. He opened his mouth and Hermione half expected him to be able to talk. Instead the sound that came out was "rowr-rowr."

"I know, I know, you want some tea," Hermione said tiredly and tried to get up against the weight of two animals pressing her down.

Pinchpunch lifted one paw and then pressed it against her shoulder. He made the same agitated sound.

"You're worried about Harry?" Hermione said with a wry smile. "He'd love to hear that, I'm sure," she said in her usual conversational tone when she was alone with her cat. "Except I'm afraid he'll have forgotten all about you for the foreseeable future. He's in the hospital."

The cat seemed to freeze above her, and Hermione was able to push both animals aside to stand up. She went into the kitchen to check on Crookshanks's bowl and the makeshift one she had put out for the white kneazle. Unsurprisingly, it was untouched. Hermione sighed and opened the shopping bag she had brought home with her.

"I know you don't like cat food, Pinch," she said aloud. "But you need to eat. How about tuna instead? I have a tuna sandwich melt here. If you eat that, I'll give you a chocolate."

Pinchpunch looked offended, tail lashing back and forth in a dangerously controlled fashion.

"Here's your tea, anyway. At least you're taking in some protein from the milk," Hermione said.

Pinchpunch followed her, yowling his displeasure. He followed her so closely she kept tripping over him, and he would occasionally put one paw on her leg to stop her. Finally, she scooped him up. "Pinch, I have to get in to work early tomorrow because I took the afternoon off today. So, please be a good kneazle and let me sleep, will you? I'm sure Harry will be alright. The healers are working on him. He won’t have lost more than a week, they think. By the time we wake up, he'll have remembered everything."

Somehow the kneazle didn't look convinced, and neither was Hermione.

 

* * *

 

 

Pinchpunch was unnaturally alert the next morning when Hermione woke up. She had the uneasy feeling that the kneazle had watched her sleep the entire night so as not to miss her leaving for work in the morning. Really, his actions were more human than some humans. He sat square on her counterpane, tail flicking back and forth as he stared at her with unblinking eyes.

Hermione set out food and water as usual for Crookshanks, but noted that Pinchpunch had followed her from the bedroom to continue watching her with those unnaturally human grey eyes. When she debated with herself what to set out for the white kneazle that he would actually eat, she glanced over and found him sitting square on top of her beaded bag.

Hermione raised her eyebrows slowly. "Actually, that's not a bad idea," she thought aloud. "Ginny did say you were the last case Harry was working on. Maybe illegal kneazle breeders? But Harry would have come to me with that information. Still…"

Hermione took a look around her living area and decided to transfigure one of her plastic storage bins into a pet carrier. The usually finicky kneazle willingly got in as soon as Hermione opened up the barred opening. Then, she floo’d to the Ministry.

She took the elevator to the Department of Law Enforcement and made her way to Ron's office. Unsurprisingly, the door was open and the light on. Ron had clearly been at his desk for most of the night.

"Hey," Ron said, glancing up briefly at Hermione before looking back down at the papers in his hands.

"Any news?" Hermione asked after they had briefly hugged.

"Well, Harry's all right, if that's what you mean. But we've checked up on Malfoy's whereabouts and he's definitely missing. Unfortunately we haven't the slightest idea where to start looking."

"Oh." Hermione had no idea how else to respond. After dropping out of the Auror Program, she was completely out of the loop as to law enforcement pertaining to illegal magic and wizardry. The most exciting thing that had happened to her since she joined her department was the opening of a sanctuary for abandoned magical animals. That was the most proactive thing she had under her belt, at least. Her Proposed House Elf Rights Program was dead in the water, due to some five hundred house elves taking up a petition against freedom. Her Werewolf Rights Initiative had been knocked aside by the Werefolk Alliance, who wanted the right to decide their own rights and were unhappy that only one group (far in the minority) were singled out for possible preferential treatment.

Things that Ron and Harry participated in regularly were harrying and risky and right up both their alleys. At one time, she wouldn't have thought it was in the character of one Draco Malfoy to pursue a career that eschewed personal safety. Mouthy and impassioned he had always been, but also completely self-serving. But clearly he had changed also. Hermione thought back of the hair-raising chances she once took and knew without a doubt that nobody would ever get her to do similar activities again, feeling now as she did about mortality. She didn't know anything new about Malfoy since she had stopped attending the raucous benders the Auror department threw whenever a particularly nasty case had been closed. All she knew was that the last few cases Harry and Malfoy had been assigned involved an array of magical beasts, but she was never involved, though, given her current stint in policy writing instead of liaison to enforcement.

"I brought Pinchpunch," Hermione said, awkwardly lifting the animal case and setting it down on a corner of Ron's desk.

Ron frowned in confusion. "Yeah?" he replied warily.

Hermione made to let the kneazle out, but Ron stopped her. "Don't do that, 'Mione, I've got a system going here, and that animal could mess it all up."

She nodded and relatched the door, ignoring the hissing from inside the carrier and the animal's paws trying to bat at her from within.

"Well, I brought him because Harry got him somehow, and Ginny thinks it was related to his last case. Do you—do you know anything about that?"

Ron flipped through several of the files on his desk. "I'm working my way through his last five cases, all of which were closed out this past week. Kneazle, you say? I need to look at the last of these files before I can tell you anything. So far, not a clue as to what you're saying."

"Where was Harry found? Could that maybe be a clue?" Hermione suggested, feeling useless just standing there.

Ron looked even grimmer. He took a deep breath and scratched his chin. The sound of nails scraping across stubble filled the room against the backdrop of Pinchpunch’s complaints. "Department of Mysteries."

Hermione and Ron shared a look. "You don't think…" she said, unable to finish the thought. Sirius Black falling through the Veil was a horrible enough experience for Harry, and Sirius had been a man past his prime. The thought of Draco Malfoy, someone who had once been her biggest adversary but had somehow transformed into a civil acquaintance, falling through that same Veil before he had reached the age of thirty was somehow unthinkable.

"We don't know," Ron said finally. "We won't jump to conclusions or close the case until his wand’s at least been found, but I’m not the least bit chuffed about visiting his mum. She's terrifying, that woman is.

"Anyway, our extractor's been dispatched to the hospital to review Harry's memories. Maybe there's something there. We're lucky the hex only wiped the past week. If farther than that had been tampered with…" Ron shook his head. "It’s not just Malfoy that we’re worried about; Harry’s got other cases on the line."

"Will you let me know if you need anything else?" Hermione asked.

"Sure," Ron said with a smile and came around his desk to show her to the door. "It'll be fine, 'Mione. You know Harry, he's got the luck of the devil."

Neither wanted to voice the thought in their head—that Draco Malfoy did not.

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione let the kneazle out in her office. He came out spitting and snarling, although Hermione was relieved to note that his claws were sheathed. She watched him pace the confines of her room, his tail going from an exclamation point to a question mark as he calmed down. Then, he leaped onto her desk and stepped purposefully on her hand. It didn't hurt, but it was obvious he wanted her attention.

"What is it, Pinch?" she asked. He let up on her hand, and she turned it over, her wand resting in the palm of her hand.

The kneazle laid a paw tentatively—almost reverently—on her wand, but nothing happened. Hermione wasn’t sure what was to have happened, but she was somehow disappointed. Pinchpunch swatted the wand from her palm in a fit of temper and stalked away to leap from her desk.

Hermione's heart began to race as she stood. _What if…?_

She had known many animagi in her lifetime, including another cat. She found herself taking ahold of Pinchpunch’s left paw and rotating it slightly to see the inside of his front leg. Her breath came and went as she saw a mat of white hair and no visible scar except a juxtaposition of brown fur—the only patch he had. She lifted him up under both arms to examine his underbelly, where she knew for certain another scar should have been—courtesy of the _sectumsempra_ Harry had given him. Again, there was nothing.

She ran a few diagnostic scans over the kneazle—again revealing nothing. He stood completely still as she executed a series of _finite_ charms, but nothing happened. She didn’t know what she had expected. Her imagination was working overtime, that was all.

Disappointed, she set him back down. If Malfoy had been an animagus, he would have registered with the Animagus Registry, especially given his Auror status. Also, she wasn't completely certain, but his patronus had definitely not been a kneazle. To top it off, an animagus had no need of a wand and could transform at will. Hermione shook her head a bit to clear it.

"I guess you're just worried about Harry, yeah?" she murmured to the kneazle, leaning forward so that they were eye to eye on her desk. He blinked twice and looked away from her, swishing his tail in a contemptuous manner. Clearly, she had failed to please him in some way.

After work, she took Pinchpunch with her to St.Mungo’s. She was stopped by hospital administration, who told her she needed to get permission to bring in an animal. Injured animals, she was told with some attitude, went to the Center for Magizoology.

"This is an important witness in Harry Potter's case," Hermione said coolly. "I should have gotten a letter from Auror Ron Weasley, but was told it wouldn't be necessary." It was a bold-faced lie, but she thought Pinchpunch would probably approve.

As expected, she got a few low mutters about how this was unorthodox and against the rules, but how everyone in the hospital was pulling for Harry, so this would be an exception _just this once_.

Harry looked up and smiled at Hermione when she came in. He looked tired.

"Are you alright, Harry?" she asked, sitting gingerly on the bed after setting the carrier on a chair.

"Yeah. Just tired. Had to pull endless memories out for the Pensieve."

"Still nothing?"

Harry hesitated. "Nothing. They told me that Malfoy is missing. Have they got any…updates?"

"No," Hermione tried to say over the sound of the kneazle’s vociferations.

"Is that—? Did you bring Crookshanks?" Harry asked, perplexed.

Hermione let the kneazle out and carried him over to the bed. Harry shrank away.

"Er… Hermione, why'd you bring a cat to the hospital with you?"

"Doesn't jog any memories then?" she asked, disappointed. "You had this kneazle with you when I saw you a few days ago. Ginny thought it had something to do with your last case?"

Harry was leaning back against the headboard away from the animal. "Er, no, not ringing any bells there."

Pinchpunch reached up and swiped Harry across the face.

"What the bloody hell?" Harry yelped, leaning away. "Is it rabid?"

"I think he's trying to tell you something," Hermione said.

"Well, get it away, please," Harry said. "Its breath is foul!"

"It's not so bad," Hermione defended, picking up the animal.

"Too bad it's not Malfoy," Harry grumbled. "It looks just like the tosser, with his white hair."

The kneazle strained away from Hermione and leaned towards Harry again.

"It looks like he really likes you, Harry. Do you want to take him home for a bit?" Hermione suggested.

"Lud, no," he said, shuddering. "Ginny's already in a state because James has been so fussy. Apparently he broke out in a rash recently, which I also can't recall."

"Yes, you two were fighting about it when I went over on Sunday," Hermione said. "You were…a bit out of sorts. Kept muttering about work and Malfoy."

Harry shook his head, pulling at his hair with one hand. "I feel horrible. I can't believe—well, it's my fault, isn't it? Stands to reason. I was the last one to be with him, and I can't even remember it… _and_ he's gone missing."

The kneazle was intent on clawing the bedsheets into shreds.

"We'll figure it out," Hermione said, taking her eyes off Pinchpunch. "Ron was up all night, trying to make sense of your last few cases. I'd assume that Reinhardt is doing the same on Malfoy’s end."

Harry sighed. "Soon as I'm out of here, I'm going to track down that git. Did you—have they—they told me I was found in the Department of Mysteries…somewhere near the Veil. What if…"

Hermione reached across and squeezed Harry's hand. "Malfoy would have known better than to approach the Veil," she said. "He's not… Sirius."

"Right. Right," Harry said, taking a deep breath.

 

* * *

 

 

In the weeks that followed, things went from bad to worse. Harry was released from the hospital and Malfoy’s wand was found in his things. His last pensieve memories featured a heated argument with his partner.

_"I’ve had it with you picking the assignments!" Harry yelled._

_"Like you could have done better?" Malfoy retorted._

_"I sure as hell wouldn’t have chosen the runespoor peddling over the imperiused children case, but we all know you don’t give a knut about Muggleborn children," Harry lashed out._

_"What the hell did you just say to me, Potter?" Malfoy had responded, head tilted back and eyes glittering dangerously. "Are you accusing me of blood prejudice? After all these years?"_

_"Why wouldn’t you take that other case, Malfoy? Huh? You tell me! You’re the premier Dark Arts expert in the department and have extensive experience with the Unforgiveables. We should have been there. Instead, we traipsed around looking for runespoor eggs and got transported to Siberia in the process. They found five of the children drowned! They were made to walk into the water to drown themselves, Malfoy!" Harry was screaming by this time._

_In the memory, Malfoy was looking away. "I had my reasons. I didn’t think—that seemed a…straightforward case at the time."_

_"I don’t think I can forgive you for—once again—choosing the easy cases. Is that what you think being an Auror is? The easy way out?"_

_"Right," Malfoy snapped. "And being an Auror is clearly all about being reckless and running straight into danger!"_

_"Well, we won’t be partners for long," Harry said through white lips. "Our incompetence as a team is the talk of the office. Nelson was taking the mick about putting us on suspension."  
_

"Do you think I had something to do with his disappearance?" Harry asked Hermione in a low voice during elevenses. He had been loitering outside her office all morning until she took pity and waved him in.

She didn’t bother pretending not to know what he was talking about. "Why would you have anything to do with it?"

Harry swallowed. "Well," he said slowly, not looking at her. "We hated each other for years. We had an argument. He disappeared, and his wand was found in my possession. And, obviously I can’t remember the last week, when everything else happened." He looked tortured, and his hair was completely standing on end atop his head.

It was an ordeal all around, and the newspapers didn't help, running a feature entitled "Ex-Death Eater Turned Auror Presumed Dead—Boy-Who-Lived to Blame?" It raked up every single confrontation the two had in school and their more public arguments since working together, as well as the more publicized cases in which they had been partnered together.

That night, Hermione found Pinchpunch completely aloof to all her attentions and prompting. Not even a chocolate crumpet could tempt him. She found him curled up in the corner of her closet with his back to the door.

When she lifted him out and onto her lap for a grooming session—Crookshanks long since resigned to his presence (after all, there wasn’t much to envy when your rival refused to eat your food or use your toiletries), she saw that the white kneazle was in a terrible state. He was significantly skinnier, for one, and his fur was no longer smooth and glossy.

Not for the first time did she consider that there was a connection between the kneazle and Harry. Was the best thing to do to return the kneazle to Harry? But Harry was in complete denial about how the kneazle had come in the first place, not remembering any of it, and Ginny was stressed enough without having to care for an unwanted pet.

"It’s all right, Pinch," she said, brushing him and wincing at the knots in his fur. He really was looking quite ill, as compared to how he had come to her, glossy and proud, an animal at the top of its game. "We’ll get Harry figured out and you can go back to him."

Not even Harry’s name could get the kneazle to lift up his head. "These allegations are ridiculous though. That people should think Harry killed Malfoy. Of course, they did have a really contentious history together. And yes, granted, he was a complete prat when he was young. But all that was ages ago. He’s not so bad now—or when I knew him before." Hermione laughed and scratched the kneazle on the head. "Did you know, we were actually friends for a time? Strange, isn't it?"

The kneazle hadn’t stirred once since she lifted him onto her lap. Now, he turned his head around to face her.

"It wasn't anything," she backtracked. "Just…it was nice, you know? Talking to him. I had never done that in school. He was intelligent. Funny. He listened. Well, not towards the end. And of course, he ignored me completely after I dropped out of training." Hermione sighed. "It's nothing, Pinch. I don't know why I thought you were him. That would be completely crazy, wouldn't it? Harry would have said something."

The kneazle let out a sigh and turned the back of his head to her again.

"You could have knocked me over with a quill when Malfoy started to go out with Harry and Ron for bants," Hermione said, petting the kneazle from head to tail. "I actually fancied him for a bit, you know. And recently in our interdepartmental meeting, he actually backed up my motion with some statistics from their… well, it doesn't matter. And, of course the boys were completely oblivious to the whole thing."

The kneazle lifted up his white head at her words and stood up on her lap. He turned to look Hermione full in the face. It was then she realized his eyes weren’t the same as before. They were no longer grey, but rather a pale shade of blue, like most other cats. Of course, it could have been the light, but she had been certain his eyes had been that strange shade of grey, that particular color so rare in felines.

That night, Hermione let the kneazle sleep on her bed with her.

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione was dreaming. It was a replay of an old memory, from when she had first started at the Ministry, approximately three years ago.

She had been persuaded by both Ron and Harry, not to mention Kingsley into going through Auror training, despite her original reservations.

""I'd be remiss if I didn't ask you to take our country's welfare into account and consider becoming an Auror, Hermione," Kingsley had said. "You are a singularly talented witch and from what I've heard, saved Harry from himself more than once. It doesn't just take skill only, it also takes instincts to be a first-rate auror, and you've demonstrated both qualities in full."

Maybe it was being flattered by the man people claimed would be the next Minister or it was that she wasn't immune to the imploring of someone whose ethics she admired, but Hermione caved. She caved big-time and decided to sign up for auror training.

And the first person Hermione saw, on the first day of training, was someone with whom she’d had a relationship comprised entirely of animosity.

"Granger," an unwelcome voice belonging to a platinum blond wizard greeted her.

"Malfoy," she replied through lips that hardly moved. Fortunately, though, that seemed to be the extent of his verbosity. He moved to a seat at the opposite side of the room after a surprisingly civil nod. Hermione could hardly believe it was the same person who used to sneer at her.

They were partnered up for the very first exercise, a dueling routine to evaluate how quickly they thought on their feet.

Wonderful, Hermione thought, eyeing her partner. He eyed her right back.

"We are going to really mix things up for this first exercise," Hemmings informed them. "I've found some graduates come to us with preconceived notions, and we're going to do away with that right now."

"I'm not going to kill you," Malfoy said to her, looking exasperated. "So you needn't behave as though I were considering it."

"I wasn't," she denied, blushing furiously, because the thought _had_ crossed her mind.

He rolled his eyes. "Right."

"Fine," Hermione said. "Then put my doubts to rest: why _are_ you in auror training?"

He gazed at her for a minute in which she was certain he was about to tell her to sod off. Then he shrugged and said, "Professor Snape recommended me, all right? After he was awarded a posthumous Order of Merlin, First Class, several of his… actions came to light. It seemed ungrateful not to put his recommendation to good use when all he ever did was to look out for my well-being." At first, he seemed as though he were going to say more, but then his lips clamped together.

Hermione wilted. She didn't know what she had expected—for Malfoy to claim he was much more qualified than she ever could be to be inside the Ministry. Or for him to claim his skills at dueling far outstripped hers—which had been true in school. She hadn't expected a desire to remember a man who had sacrificed himself for the good of wizardkind and who had certainly acted like a doting father to Malfoy, even if he had behaved like a giant bat to everyone else, herself included.

"Oh," was all she could find to say.

His lips pulled outward at the sides as he acknowledged her speechlessness.

" _En garde!_ " Hermione said and was promptly sent flying backwards as she was hit with a cyclone of cold wind.

"Are you alright?" Hermione looked up to find Malfoy’s uneasy face above hers.

"Fine," she grimaced.

"Maybe you should go to the infirmary," he suggested, glancing back towards the instructor. He looked so uneasy that Hermione realized he was even more aware of his status as a social pariah than she was. He hated going up against her even more than she did.

It made her feel magnanimous, even. "I'm fine. That was a good one. Let's go again."

That was how they had fallen into a non-contentious relationship.

The first time they had been assigned on a raid was an unmitigated disaster, and part of the reason she dropped out of the program two months later.

There were trip-hexes around the entire perimeter of the estate. Although they had a warrant, they should have known it wouldn't be so easy. The one thing about dark wizards was that they were all unpredictable.

"Three layers of protective charms," she had said calmly, and listed them out. "Classic disillusionment, Notice-Me-Not, and warning spells."

Keeblewhite, their lead, nodded in approval of her diagnostic spell.

"There should be more," Malfoy said with a frown.

"But there aren't any beyond the apparation point," Hermione argued. "See? Otherwise, this Sneakoscope would start spinning."

She didn't have to look to see Malfoy rolling his eyes. "That's an outdated artifact, Granger. Everyone knows that."

"Then what would you suggest?" Hermione challenged, hands going to her hips an instant before Malfoy knocked her over. Purple light exploded behind her less than a second later.

"Good save," Keeblewhite acknowledged. "It was a trip-hex, undetectable by diagnostics, because they only show up when triggered."

Hermione struggled up and gazed at the tree that had taken the brunt of the curse. There was a hole directly through its trunk, still rimmed in fiery sparks. "You saved me," she whispered, staring at Malfoy.

For the first time since training started and maybe ever, Malfoy smiled at her. A genuine, non-sarcastic smile.

"Now we're even," he said.

Hermione found her voice the following week when they were paired up again.

"When did I save your life?" she demanded.

"When you and Potter and Weasley rescued us from the Room of Requirement," he replied promptly before raising an eyebrow.

"Anyone would have done that," she said.

"Precisely. So now we're even."

There was no reason for her to be seeking him out voluntarily. Right, maybe there were a couple of reasons. Shorn of his youthful bravado and mouthful of insults, Hermione found this new person was not unpleasant to be around. Certainly he knew more about Dark Arts than anyone she knew and that definitely gave her pause. However, even the instructor had acknowledged that knowledge of the Dark Arts would be something that saved them in raids, because dark wizards weren't going to go by the book in defending themselves. Dark Arts weren't taught at Hogwarts, even though they were at most other schools, specifically Durmstrang, and that was a pity for the British denizens, Hemmings said. After the noticeable slew of shocked exclamations, he told them to settle down and understand that in order to _defend_ against dark spells, one had to understand them. It was alarming to discover just how much knowledge Malfoy possessed on such an obscure area of magic.

Hermione had a rather poor opinion of the schoolboy she had known, least of whose faults was his propensity in fooling about behind professors’ backs. This new Malfoy took his training seriously. She found that, on more than one occasion, the books she wanted for extra research had already been checked out by him from the Ministry library. When she asked him for the books, he handed them to her without any snarky comments, only a few offhand reminders to not move his markers charmed inside the books. Things that only another avid reader and studier understood.

They had even amicably exchanged notes from training a few times. It was a foolish thing to like someone for their penmanship, but that was exactly what Hermione found herself doing. Malfoy’s handwriting was superb, with a slight windswept quality to his lettering. And while she wrote down every word the instructors said, his notes were succinct, with lots of shorthand. She found herself tracing some of his written words. They reminded her of old-fashioned letters, when people wrote with beautiful penmanship detailing their day with vocabulary and syntax not often used in present day. She had never seen cursive so elegant outside of a wedding invitation.

In short, there were more than a few things Hermione found to like about this changed person. Or maybe those qualities were always there, only waiting for the devastation of war to bring them out and the maturity of adulthood for someone to see.

 

* * *

 

 

_Three years ago_  

Hermione knew Malfoy would be the one to find her.

"At least use the women's loo down the hall, Hermione," he said, from outside the door. "This is the only loo available for men in this section."

He had started calling her Hermione a while back and she still couldn't get used to the sound of it on his lips. _Hermione_. His posh accent made the name sound positively decadent. She had toyed with the idea of calling him Draco, since that was, after all, his name. But the thought had died unspoken. Her name didn't mean much to him, she was sure, while her saying his first name would be…

She didn't know what it would be, but it would mean something, if the thought of it made her blush.

But right now, it was none of his business that she was using the _gender-neutral loo_ close to their department. He was right, though—she should have gone further afield.

Still, this was the closest place she could find to throw up. Seeing that child who got hit with multiple jinxes had taken an enormous toll on her, especially the horrifying jinx that ended his life by turning his esophagus into a live fish that had tried to flap its way of of his body.

Another knock. "Hermione," he said. "I know you're in there."

"It's occupied, Malfoy!" she yelled out.

"Look, you're upset, but you can't be serious about dropping out of the program," he said through the door. She could just imagine him with both hands on the door, mouth close enough to leave fog on the plaque denoting this as a public toilet.

Hermione jerked the door open. "So what if I am?" she demanded.

He crowded her so that she walked backwards into the bathroom again. He closed the door with a quiet click, glanced around and grimaced before he transformed the washbasin and the mirrors into a table and chairs.

After sitting in one of the chairs, he said, "You're halfway through training. Did you think it was going to be all peaches and cream? Didn't you think that our instructors had something up their sleeves when they looked suspiciously eager today?"

Hermione thought back and realized he was right. "It’s still disgusting."

"It is. But that's the sort of thing they regularly come across. As will you," he said. "Aren't you eager to present your diploma to your friends?"

"And what about you?" she asked.

"Oh, terribly eager to show your friends," he said with some of his old mocking edge.

Hermione blinked at the floor, now glamoured to resemble a parquet floor in a restaurant. "I thought I could do it, Malfoy," she said. "But I can't. It was one thing when it was during war and we were fighting for the survival of mankind, but now that it's over, I just can't do this every day. I can't face seeing that sort of torture and…having to remember it," she finished at almost a whisper. Her right hand subconsciously fingered the scar on her left forearm through the sleeve of her robes. His eyes followed her movements.

He didn't speak for the longest time. When he finally did, it wasn't what she had expected him to say. "Are you ever going to call me by my first name?"

She gaped at him. "What?"

"My name. I have a name. Are you ever going to use it?"

"Er," she said, looking anywhere but at him. She looked at the pastel art on the wall he had transfigured over the partition dividing the bathroom. At the discreet lamp hanging over their makeshift table. _Transfiguration lay in the details_ , Professor McGonagall had told them. Clearly, Malfoy had paid attention in class. "Probably if you save me again," she said finally. "Then I'll owe you, right?"

"I don't count on that happening anytime soon," he remarked with the faintest of smiles and stood up. "So this is it? You'll be gone in the morning?" His lips were twisted into some sort of expression she couldn't fathom.

"I'll probably transfer to another division of the Ministry," she said. His eyes were narrowed at her as though he wanted to say something. She waited, but he didn't say a word. "It was nice working with you, Malfoy," she said finally.

He scoffed, opened the door and stopped. He made a sound that was a scoff and opened the door and stopped. Without turning around, he said, "Put the loo back in order before you leave, will you?"

As she watched him go, something inside her wanted to stop him. The set of his back seemed so final.

But she didn't. 

Hermione Granger was someone who prided herself on not putting her feelings above her work. She had done that once before, when she was a teenager, and it had amounted to absolutely nothing then, so she had sworn off such behavior. Certainly, she had gotten to know Draco Malfoy that much better in their sequestered training and had even (gasp) enjoyed his company. Was there a teeny tiny part of her that had started to find him attractive and that wanted to know him better, perhaps outside of training? Yes, perhaps. But sacrificing her lunch thanks to painful training sessions, as well as her future career goals to pursue that (probably doomed) possibility was not what being an Auror was about. So she dropped out.

There were so many different degrees of dismayed reaction to her decision that she didn't have the time to catalogue them all. The only person she thought of was her former partner in training, who seemed so unaccountably unapproachable now that they were no longer in the same department.

Hermione was a fierce and brave warrior in all but one area. When it came to relationships, she simply didn't have what it took to bat her eyelashes and wiggle her bottom to get what she wanted. And it didn't seem as though Malfoy were interested either, if she was being honest with herself.

After the first few times of going out for drinks with the Auror department, with Hermione sandwiched in between Harry and an ever ebullient Ron, she gradually gave up trying to talk to him. How could she, when all Malfoy ever did at the social functions they attended at the same time was look over her head and direct close-mouthed smiles in her general direction?

It was a pity, that was all. She had thought they had quite a rapport together, despite all the differences stacked against them. They had worked quite well, in a way, and in fact, she thought the instructors liked to pair them together for that exact reason.

That was, most likely, all in her own mind.

 

* * *

 

 

_Present day_  

"It's been weeks," Harry responded to Hermione's question. He looked stressed and possibly even a little sad. "There's been no sign of his whereabouts. I finally narrowed down the suspects to two of our last cases, but I haven't been able to take a leave to check it out. As far as the department is concerned, his wand has already been found. Fact is, wizards die all the time without leaving a trace, so the case is closed, pending an investigation as to my… issues." Harry buried his face in his hands.

Hermione gazed across her desk at him, feeling pity and something else that felt vaguely like a rock churning in her gut. Harry and Malfoy had a long and complicated past together, but she thought that, in a way, they understood each other in almost the exact same manner Harry and Ron got each other. A past filled with animosity and misunderstandings served as something of a bridge when truce was called.

Now, Harry was being hauled up before the ethics committee after the latest episode, which was probably exacerbated by his and Malfoy's string of reprimands. Not for one minute, though, did Hermione think he had anything intentional to do with Malfoy's disappearance.

As for what she _did_ think… Hermione didn’t want to dwell on her own feelings on the matter. That was something she only did in the dark recesses of the night. She concentrated on the facts, and it was a right shame that someone as talented and young as Draco Malfoy would die so early. It was nothing personal, her own feelings of sadness. Not at all.

"I went over to the Manor," Harry said, swallowing. "I had to talk to his mother. His _mother_ who wanted to save him so badly she purposefully lied on my behalf to save _me_. It was horrible."

"What did the healers say about the obliviation hex?" Hermione asked, changing the subject.

"You know the memories are usually gone, unless the person specifically siphoned them out beforehand as insurance. I'm definitely going to start doing that now," he replied with a short laugh.

"You were… harried when I saw you that Sunday. You were muttering about work. You didn't want to let me in, but Ginny made you. You both cancelled on our lunch, so Ron and I ate together. You said something about, ‘this is a hell of a time for this to happen. Now I'll have to file papers for Malfoy,’ or something of that nature."

Harry sighed. "Again, this is all evidence against me."

"Not necessarily," Hermione denied. "Why would you file papers for Malfoy if you were implicit in his disappearance? Wouldn't you want someone else to discover that he's missing?"

Harry groaned and pulled at his hair. "I don't even know anymore."

"Harry…" Hermione said helplessly. "Are you sure you won't even take the kneazle back? Even Ginny said it might have something to do with your last case."

"I honestly can't imagine what on earth possessed me to bring home a kneazle when James is allergic. That's so unlike me," he grumbled and pushed to his feet. "Thanks for listening, Hermione. I'm going to go back to the grind and see if I can track down those two suspects."

Hermione smiled weakly at him as he stumbled out of her office.

At home, she was greeted by a buoyant Crookshanks, who had demonstrated his superiority over the new arrival, and a very lackadaisical Pinchpunch, as he had been recently. Hermione picked up the droopy kneazle and spoke some nonsense to it, pulling him into her lap for a grooming session.

Today, he lifted a tail half-heartedly in response to her brushing him before lying down, a completely disinterested customer. She scratched Pinch under the chin and the animal turned his head to look at her. Hermione blinked as she gazed down at the animal. Now, she was completely certain it was undergoing some type of change—she was positive that his pupils now looked slitted and almost sky-blue. He miaowed at her plaintively and sighed.

Hermione made up her mind. Holding the kneazle under her arm, she floo'd away.

She was apologizing as she made her way from the fireplace: "I'm so sorry for this intrusion, Professor."

Headmistress McGonagall has risen from behind her desk with raised eyebrows.

"I don't know if you've heard, Professor, of Harry's current problems?"

The headmistress's eyes softened. "Only a fool would think that boy had anything to do with anyone's disappearance, much less his own partner's. What's this? A new pet?"

Hermione gazed down at her armful and held Pinch up. He shrank a little before the older woman. "Sort of. This was what Harry put in my care before he was obliviated. I was wondering…well, I was wondering if you could tell me if it's been transfigured."

The headmistress raised her eyebrows even higher. "An animagus, my dear? They're practically undetectable unless one catches them in the act. Or do you mean transfigured by someone else?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I'm wondering."

The headmistress came forward to study the animal, who blinked up at the former professor. "I’m sure you're now far more of an expert than I am, Hermione, working in the Beast Division as you are. Such things are far more complex than a simple transfiguration spell, which can be undone by _finite_ or even by touch at times, and usually wears off within a few days if not reapplied. I'm afraid if you have checked it out yourself that there isn't much more I could tell you."

"Thanks, Professor," Hermione said with a wry smile.

"Minerva," the headmistress corrected. "Surely we've graduated into first names?"

Hermione blushed. "Right. Sorry. Habit. Erm, actually, would you mind if I visited with Hagrid for a few minutes? He's not away, is he?"

"Yes, please help yourself, dear. And you may use the new Apparation Point, you know. It allows Hogwarts staff and Ministry personnel to exit from the premises."

With another short exchange of pleasantries, Hermione made her way outside and down the hill to Hagrid's cabin, where she was relieved to see had smoke rising from the chimney.

"Blimey, Hermione!" Hagrid said after helping open the door. "Aren't yeh a sight for me sore eyes? Come in and have a few of my stone cakes."

Unsurprisingly, Hagrid also sported a few singe marks on his face and beard. "What's happened there?" she asked, clearing off a chair before sitting down. Pinch flicked his tail multiple times before he conceded to sitting on her lap.

"Oh, ergh, some little mishap with a lightning chick, but never yeh mind. What's got yeh down here at this time of the day, Hermione? Something on yer mind?"

"Actually, yes. Hagrid, if you don't mind, I wanted you to take a look at this animal," Hermione gestured down at the white kneazle in her lap.

"What's that yeh got there, a kneazle? No, some other animal. No kneazle’s that color. Too big to be a regular cat, though, and not with those ears and that tail," Hagrid was mumbling to himself.

"Wait a minute, Hagrid. Are you saying this _isn't_ a kneazle?"

"Well, it could be done, right? But, never seen one with that color afore in my life, and that's saying something." Hagrid reached forward to stroke the animal and Pinch lurched back so quickly he knocked his head on Hermione's chin.

It was hard to tell who was more surprised. There didn’t exist an animal Hagrid couldn't charm into purring for him, Hermione was certain. Hagrid was similarly taken aback and stared for a minute at the kneazle in befuddlement before scratching his beard. "Well, he's a one, isn't he?" he chuckled. "Where did yeh get him?"

"Harry," Hermione said. "Except he doesn't remember how or where. So I was hoping our resident expert could tell me."

"I can't tell you a thing you wouldn't know, I'm sure," Hagrid said gruffly, cheeks flushing at her praise. "But one time I met a nasty fella, who charmed animals to having some very rare traits, all for the sake of making a few knuts. Nasty business that. You might find that under the glamour, this poor little animal is just your average, mixed breed kneazle."

Hermione ignored the fact Pinch was trying to swat Hagrid's hand away from his head. "That's just it, Hagrid. There's no glamour on him that either the headmistress or I could detect."

"Blimey, that's a conundrum, isn't it?" Hagrid said, now with one massive hand on his hip and the other on his head as he tried to figure out why the animal was behaving with such antipathy towards him. "An enchantment, do yeh suppose? But it'd have to be quite the charm if neither of yeh two could figure it out. I mind old fairy magic, that's the only sort of thing that would escape the notice of a couple of smart witches like yeh two. I don't know what else to tell yeh."

Dispirited, Hermione thanked Hagrid, exchanged a few more tidbits of gossip about Hogwarts and the Ministry before she made her way to the Apparation Point and returned to her dark flat. It was already nine o'clock and all was dark.

Hermione set Pinch down and picked up Crookshanks, crooning to the neglected cat. "I'm sorry, Crooks. I know I've been neglecting you dreadfully, but I've got to see him home somehow. You wouldn't like to be so far from me and not have someone help you, would you?"

In keeping with her newly awakened suspicions as to the origins of the animal, Hermione took Crookshanks into the bathroom with her and firmly closed the door on Pinch, ignoring his hisses and protests as she showered.

When she emerged, Pinch was steadfastly trying to ignore her, sitting with his back to the bathroom door, one paw up to one side of his face, trying to groom himself but not even using his tongue.

Hermione almost laughed at that. "Tomorrow, Pinch, I'll hit the library and dig up more information. I don't think we should rely on Harry's leads."

The white kneazle unbent to miaow his approval. He stalked about her room, his tail brushing over the spines of the books on the lowest level on her bookshelf.

Over the years, Hermione's instincts had been sharpened into closely observing animal behavior especially when she was stumped as to problems. She dropped to all fours and ran a finger over the titles of the books before a thought struck her. "Forgotten Fairy Tales," she read. "Fairy magic!"

Pinch stared back at her unblinkingly, with only his tail swishing behind him.

That night, she sat up in bed, flipping through the pages of the book. It was an older book in her possession even before she had gotten her Hogwarts letter. Going through it now, she was surprised at how accurate a representation Muggles had gotten the world of magic without even knowing it existed.

After reading through almost half of the book, she looked up at the two animals next to her. "I don't know what I'm even looking for, is the problem," she admitted before turning out the light. "All I know now is to call out your name if you're ever in a jam."

Somehow that made her think of Draco Malfoy and her friendship with him that died before it even began. She wished…she wished now that she had tried just a little harder. But what was the point, right? A relationship took two. At the very least, she thought, she could have called him by name. By his _real_ name, as he had requested.

"Draco," she tested tentatively in the silent room.

The room was still. Even the kneazle stopped moving and stared.

"Draco," she whispered, tasting the name on her tongue.

She fell asleep.

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione was dreaming again. She was reliving another memory.

"Malfoy!" someone hailed, and she saw with surprise that she was looking up and at herself. She was in someone else's body, looking through someone else's eyes.

"Did you come to steal another of my books?" she was saying. No, Malfoy was talking, and she was seeing the event unfold through his eyes, from inside his body.

"I wouldn't have to if you would just stop checking out all the good ones," dream sequence Hermione said with a cheeky smile. Real Hermione's eyes lingered on that smile—no, Malfoy’s eyes did.

"Have at it then, _Hermione_ ," he said, emphasizing her name.

Real Hermione watched the wash of color spread across her face. "Er, right," Dream Hermione said, ducking her head and picking through the books that were stacked on the table. They were in the Ministry library. She remembered this scene, but vaguely. They had been stymied by a list of Russian and Pan-Asian hexes that the instructor had rapped out in quick succession in training that day.

"Still not going to call me by name, are you?" Malfoy was drawling in that knowing manner he had. She never knew what to make of him when he did that. She never knew if he was teasing her or testing her. Now, in the dream, Real Hermione could tell that Malfoy’s eyes were tracking her every movement—the way she tucked her hair behind her ear, the way she tapped twice on a page she found particularly interesting, the way her brow furrowed a bit when thinking. He hadn't done that in real life, had he? This was all in her mind, a dream.

"What did you make of the Asian curses? Specifically the Tibetan types?" Dream Hermione was asking, looking anywhere but back at him.

"You'll have to be more specific. All Hemmings discussed today was thread magic. You do realize that Buddhist magic is older than anything we have, right?"

"I've actually never read anything about Buddhist magic," Dream Hermione admitted, a little abashed. "There aren't that many translations of the subject."

Malfoy hesitated before saying, "I have a few at home. At the Manor. In the library."

"Oh," Dream Hermione replied.

"You're welcome to come peruse them at your leisure." He paused for a moment. "A war heroine as you are. I doubt many doors are closed to you. There's no reason the Manor should be an exception."

In his eyes, Dream Hermione looked uncomfortable. "Oh, that's all right. I don't want to impose."

Real Hermione remembered this moment. She had felt ashamed that it had been so easy to get places and receive awards for something she did when she was barely aware of what she was doing. There had even been talk of her and Ron getting the Order of Merlin, Third Class, but it hadn't passed through the committee, much to Ron's chagrin.

Compared to her situation, she was very much aware that Draco Malfoy had fallen far indeed. She hadn't been blind to the mutterings behind his back when people thought he couldn't hear them, or the fact that the instructor had bald-facedly told him that if it hadn't been for the recommendations of Severus Snape, who had a posthumous Order of Merlin, as well as that of Harry Potter, who was the national savior, he would have found it hard to lift his head at the Ministry. It would have been far easier for him to opt for the easy way out and hole up at the Manor. Yet he was here, trying to honor a man who Hermione could now see as a reluctant benefactor.

In Real Hermione's eyes, she saw the moment Malfoy shrank back within himself. "I'll bring a few for you, Granger," he said finally, looking away. There was a hard knot in the pit of her stomach that she recognized as his. Or maybe it belonged to her as well? It was difficult to tell. "Now if that's all?"

She knew that Dream Hermione was at a loss when it came to these quicksilver changes in Malfoy’s demeanour, not to mention a little put off by his ofttimes sudden rejection. Now she realized that he had been protecting himself in the same way he had all during school.

 _Draco_ , she thought.

 _Draco_ , she mourned.

_I should have tried harder. I didn't see any of this. I was blind._

"Draco," she murmured half-asleep into the dark room before realizing that it was only a dream.

 

* * *

 

 

In the morning, Hermione rolled over onto her other side to find that the blankets refused to turn with her. She came gradually awake as she tried to yank the blankets from where they had gotten stuck around something heavy.

She blinked twice at the blond head lying next to hers on the bed. Her eyes must have been playing tricks on her due to her vivid dreams of the evening before.

"Draco?" she murmured, unsure if she was dreaming or if this was really happening. If this was a dream, though, it was embarrassingly vivid. His upper body was completely nude and she refused to look any further downwards.

His eyelids fluttered and he opened his eyes. Grey eyes. The color of the sky before a lightning storm. He blinked a few times before he saw Hermione. Then he smiled.

Every time he focused those eyes on her sent a sort of an electric shock through her. Like his father, he had pale grey eyes framed by brown lashes and dark brows. The effect of the light color against the darkness was always a little startling and left her wishing she too could have such interesting features and beautiful contrasts as he had. That was especially true when he had the kind of translucent grey eyes that reflected back the color of whatever he was wearing. Or not wearing. Right now, his eyes seemed awash in the blue of her coverlet.

"But you're missing," Hermione said dumbly. "Presumed dead."

"I think," he began, and looked a little surprised to hear his own voice. He lifted his head slightly and raised his bare but unmistakably human arm up in the air to examine it. "I think I've just been resurrected."

"How?" she asked. "Why here? Why now?"

He smiled faintly and suddenly moved so that he was above her and pressing her against the bedspread. "I think it's _leh_ ," he said. "That's Tibetan for karma, in case you haven't read that far."

And then he leaned down and kissed her.

It was a tentative brush of lips against each other, of breaths that came together and commingled in the still morning air. Of the subtle whisper of skin and clothes and the deep inhalation of the scent that marked them as individuals. It was somehow everything she had been imagining all those months ago but had denied to herself.

"Are you real?" Hermione asked fuzzily. "Or am I dreaming?"

His lips pulled up further on one side. "I think I might’ve been dreaming a lot longer than you."

She wanted to ask him what he meant, but in the next moment, there was a loud sound from the next room.

"Hermione, I've got it!" Harry's muffled voice floated to her. "Open the Floo and let me through!"

Hermione blinked and sat up. She gazed back at Draco and shook her head a little. The early events of this morning still had her in a dream state. She stumbled from the bedroom into the living area.

Harry tumbled out of the fireplace once she had let him through. "I've got it. It's the Mage. Hermione, I'm going to request a short leave and track this man down. I'm sure he'll be able to solve this issue and tell me where that blond git went— _what is this?!"_ Harry ended on a shout, his jaw dropping. He danced forward and back in a comical imitation of a griffon with its feet on fire.

Hermione whipped her head around. She was somehow all at once surprised and not at all surprised to see Draco Malfoy dressed in her bedsheets in the doorway.

Harry was simultaneously jabbing the air with one finger and pushing his glasses up his nose with the other hand. "Is this some kind of a joke? Has he been here _this entire time_? Did he put you up to this? Hermione, how could you do this—"

"You see him too, right?" Hermione replied and turned around to face the blond man. With a sigh, she transfigured the bedsheets into something resembling wizarding robes.

"What do you mean, do I see him too? He's right there! What is going on here?" Harry demanded, pulling on his hair.

"First of all, Potter, thanks so much for getting yourself obliviated. Second, I _have_ been here, because you pawned me off on Hermione after your wife made you. Third, really, you've just _now_ figured out that it was the Mage? It's been over two months."

Harry gaped and glanced at Hermione for support.

"I'll make some tea," she said, resigned.

Over breakfast, Hermione learned that it was thanks to the partners' uncoordinated interview of one wizard going by the moniker "the Mage" that Draco had ended up being turned into a kneazle.

"Nothing Harry tried worked. We decided against going to our supervisor, since he was already pissed off at us because of how we conducted our last assignment, and had threatened to reassign the case. Harry heard about some artifact in the Department of Mysteries that could reveal the enchantment, this Mirror of Kulasa. My guess is, while I was at your place, he went down there, got his hands on the wrong thing and got himself obliviated for his troubles."

"I don't understand why you didn't tell me," Hermione asked Harry. "Or Ginny."

"Oh, ergh, c'mon, Hermione, you know you always take Ginny's side," Harry said with an abashed grin. "And she would have read me a riot act if she knew about this."

"How did you transform back?" she asked Draco, sneaking a look at him and finding that she was blushing. He had been naked _in her bed_ just that morning. Maybe. She hadn't looked though, but maybe she should have. Who knew when she would get a chance again?

"It must have been in the middle of the night," Draco said thoughtfully. "To be honest, I started feeling like my handle on humanity was starting to fade little by little. If it had been much longer, I think I might have completely gone over. I'm not sure how animagi do it, to be honest."

"Fairy magic," Hermione said suddenly, recalling her reading material of the night before. "To call a person out of his animal enchantment, call him by his name three times. I had a dream…" Hermione blushed and ducked her head.

"What?" prompted Harry.

"Nothing," she said. "Just that I guess I should have known to try that. Everyone knows that old fairy tale." She lifted her head and met Draco's very human, grey eyes glittering back at her.

"I guess I owe you another one," Draco said, his mouth in that peculiar non-smile of his.

"Huh?" asked a confused Harry.

"Don't you have to go back and tell Ginny what's happened?" Draco asked without taking his eyes off Hermione.

"Ha, right," Harry said, nodding and then shaking his head in bemusement. "I should have known Hermione'd crack it. All these weeks. I'll owl you later. Malfoy, come by the house to get your wand. And we have to go in to the office to get your statement on the Mage."

Harry was still talking as he made his way to the Floo.

Draco shook his head after his partner.

"Well, you're back," Hermione said, smiling weakly. In the back of her mind, she started cataloguing all the things she had done and said in front of Pinchpunch the Kneazle for the past two months. Now that he was back to being a human, it was disappointing because she didn't think she could ever look him square in the eyes ever again. Which was a pity, because he really did have the most lovely eyes as a human and because he kissed so wonderfully and because…

"I kept having these dreams," Hermione blurted out, face flushing but intent on reasoning things out.

"About that," Draco said, rubbing his chin. "You know I’m a legilimens. Hemmings brought it up in training before you left. Well, that was the only way I could stay sane and human. Except it didn’t work most of the time. The only time it seemed to work was—"

"When I was asleep," Hermione finished. "The defenses are less strong then."

Draco hesitated. "Yes."

Hermione was struck with a thought. Did he know of what she thought and felt about him? Had he been looking through her thoughts and dreams?

"Hermione," Draco cut into her thoughts. "Stop thinking."

"What?"

"Your thoughts are going everywhere. Listen," he said and took her limp hand across the table. "I've had a lot of time to think these past few weeks as an animal, when I couldn't communicate or do much of anything and I wanted to vomit every time I had to eat kneazle food."

"Are you hungry?" Hermione asked, concerned.

Draco held up the hand not touching hers. "Let me just say this all at once. When I realized I might never go back to the way I was, I realized I was a fool for letting so many chances pass me without doing a damn thing about it, other than…well, silly tricks to throw our departments together. You know the reason I was unable to say before any of this happened was because I felt—partly responsible for you having dropped out of the program."

Hermione frowned. "Say…what? Responsible—that was my decision!"

"Based on the torture you experienced at the hands of my family members," he said, mouth twisting a little. "And to be honest, the fact that you could never call me by my name instead of my surname always made me feel you could never separate me from them."

"I—I never blamed you for that. It’s just—now that the war’s over, I just can’t face dueling every single day. I frankly don’t know how you and Ron and Harry do it."

"Well, we’re men, right? We fight to prove it."

Hermione laughed. He suddenly sobered and directed his words down at the table in front of him.

"Hermione, I like you. I like that you can look past the prat that I was in school. I like that… when we talk, it doesn't feel as though all you think of me is based on my past and my family — even though Merlin knows you have more than enough reason to. I like that you are so forthright and blunt and still so… inexplicably shy," he said, all in one breath. He paused, exhaled, and looked up at her, eyes blazing. "Do you think—can we do this? You and me? Can you give me a chance to make up for the past decade?" he finished, shaking his head slightly as though chastising himself for his lack of eloquence. His eyes spoke the rest for him as they shone across the table at her.

To Hermione, his words were beautiful. She wouldn't have changed a word of it. "Yes," she blurted out. "Or _leh._ " She smiled at him. "It also means yes. Or, like you said, karma."

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of an anonymous fest. Reveals of authors and artists will be posted on 1st of November. Follow us on [TUMBLR](https://hp-creatures.tumblr.com/).


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